Smooth Sailing
by queen-elizardbeth
Summary: Just a slice-of-life story about Dipper and Pacifica. Set four years after Weirdmaggedon, rated teen for minor sexual themes and drug/alcohol references (no drugs used by main characters, alcohol reserved for characters over 21). Dipifica. I hope you enjoy!
1. Chapter 1: A Night to Remember

Smooth Sailing By Queen Elizardbeth

Chapter 1: A Night to Remember

* * *

A Brief Note:

This is my first Dipifica story (first story in general, in fact), so constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.

None of the characters from the show are mine, they are the property of Disney.

* * *

Pacifica Northwest checked her phone for a fourth time that evening, desperate to see some form of communication with her soon-to-be guest. The black screen yielded nothing, letting her only to sigh in frustration and set it back down on her vanity in a less-than-gentle manner.

This. Was. Pathetic.

Why was she so nervous about having _this_ friend over? Tiffany and Audra came over all the time (or used to, before Pacifica began to mingle with the "lower class"), and Dipper and she were far closer than she had been with anyone. She took him shopping, he invited her over to watch movies, what about that made him appealing?!

Pacifica's phone buzzed and made a small 'ding' that was unique to the bookish-brunette's texts. She broke out of her trance, and brought the phone to her face to see what the source of her internal turmoil had to say.

 _'Hey Paz, just now leaving the Shack :( . Ford got another satyr horn lodged in his neck and needed a quick hand with the Stxy water. I'll be there soon! -Dip'_

Pacifica hastily put the phone down and began to inspect her make-up, her heart rate quickening. She grabbed a hairbrush and began to tug at her thick, golden locks as she continued to tackle the issue before her. Why was Dipper coming over filling her with joy while also sending her into a fearful spiral? It wasn't like he was particularly charming or charismatic, nor was he really famous. If anything, he was near _infamous_ at Gravity Falls High. After every weekend out with his great-uncle, he would walk into the school, sporting some new scar or an excess of bandages over a cursed bite. His arms were almost entirely covered in tattoos of strange symbols, some of which, with the right combination of Latin and elvish, gave him the power to set any object ablaze or give kittens fish tails (a Friday she was desperate to forget).

He was the antisocial freak who always had his nose in a book. He was the idiot whose idea of fun was trying to coax a cockatrice into looking in a mirror. He was the guy who allowed her to drag him to the mall, and stay up all night holding her after her mother overdosed-.

Pacifica froze, her hands aching from her overly-tight grip on the hair brush. She slowly set the brush down and turned to look at her vanity's mirror, her ice-blue eyes staring back at her.

He actually cared.

Dipper Pines actually cared about her.

Everyone she had known before meeting Dipper only cared about what they could get from her. Tiffany and Audra wanted social status. Gregory McLean wanted Pacifica's inheritance and something else that earned him a strong slap across the face at last year's summer gala. Preston and Pricilla wanted a daughter who was trained to perfection, and, unlike everyone else in Pacifica's life, they had the power to not take no for an answer.

Dipper actually listened to her. Though he made it clear that he didn't not understand nor relate to several of the problems of the upper-class, he never wrote her problems off as "basic rich girl problems". He had stayed up all night on several occasions talking with her, listening and whispering support to her. He was the first one she called when she found her mother dead at her desk, cocaine coating her nose.

Pacifica had very mixed feeling about that very fresh memory. Pricilla had only been dead one week, and already her daughter was enjoying her new found freedom. Pacifica was relieved to finally be free of the bell, but she couldn't get over the guilt of her happiness. Was she supposed to be so overjoyed that her mother died?

Dipper was there for her immediately. He had shown up less than twenty minutes after she had sobbed the news to him over the phone at three in the morning. She remembered him holding her as she balled into his chest, him rapping his arms around her and whispering to her that everything was going to be alright as she shook while wrapped in their blanket. She remembered waking up the next morning to find that their bodies had shifted in the night, resulting in her lying right on top of the seventeen year old.

Pacifica blushed as she recalled that part of the memory. The adolescent man had not needed the persuasion of a wad of cash to pretend it never happened, but that memory was all she could think of every time she though of him. _Deny it all you want_ , she thought, addressing her reflection, _You're crazy about him and you know it._

A knock came from the double doors that marked the exit from the heiress's suite. "Miss Northwest," the stiff, elderly voice of Franklin called from behind the ornate cedar, "Mr. Dipper Pines has arrived."

Pacifica nearly fell out of her seat at her vanity, hastening to answer the door. How did Dipper get her so quickly?!

The blonde teen pull d herself up, and cracked open the door, looking up at the aged butler "G-great! Uh, Show him to the parlor and tell him I'll be down in a minute."

"Very good, miss"

Pacifica turn from the doors and inspected herself in the large mirror that stood next to her four post bed. She had adorned herself in a basic pair of jeans and a pink v-neck t-shirt with an unzipped purple hoodie. She would have preferred to have the sentimental hoodie zipped up, but unfortunately puberty had different plans, and she now had to deal with the consequences. Her golden hair draped down her back and over her shoulders, while her bangs barely covered her eyebrows. She no longer wore the large hoop earrings or that awful purple eye shadow, but red lipstick, a touch of blush, and some mascara were still required by the current society...

Taking a deep breath, the Northwest set out on the long walk from her room, in the western wing of the manor, to the parlor, which sat in the center of the house. Why did the house have to be so ridiculously large? Well when you're "town founder", you can convince an army of lumberjacks that nearly a quarter of a mile in length is reasonable.

Soon enough, Pacifica found herself at her at the old parlor. It still smelled vaguely of the tobacco from the Cuban cigars her grandfather smoked in the seventies, but that was another of their 'little secrets'. Pacifica opened the old mahogany doors, and there he was, sitting in the old leather sofa, flipping through a blue journal of his own creation. How that old hat hat survived how many encounters with death Pacifica had no clue, but there it was, stuck to his head like Waddles stuck to Gompers.

Besides the hat, his wardrobe had completely changed from when he was twelve. He was about six feet tall, but his steel toed boots put his height at nearly 6'3. His jeans, though freshly cleaned, still had stains of various goos, plasmas, and blood. He wore a hand-knitted black wool sweater with a large white bear on the front; birthday gift from Mabel if she recalled correctly. The collar of a grey t-shirt stuck up around his neck, and his old tan trench coat hung on the hat stand in the corner. His face had changed a good deal over the past five years. His face was no longer round but bore the square shape that was common to most Pines men. His left cheek still had a large, shiny burn his encounter with that young Valaraukar, and a large white scar curved around his right eye and across his lips.

Dipper's head turned when he heard the doors open, and his face broke into a smile that reached his eyes. His big... Brown... Kind eyes...

Pacifica mentally snapped herself out her forming trance and returned the smile from her best friend. "About time you showed up," the heiress smirked, taking a seat on the couch next to scarred adventurer. "That's the fourth satyr this week, isn't it? How does Ford even capture those things?"

Dipper stowed his journal in a pocket and let out an exasperated sigh. "It's the _sixth_ one this week, and this time we needed an extra fire extinguisher to put him out." He rubbed his eyes, wincing slightly as he grazed the old burn. "Mabel and Stan actually figured out how to lure them out. Apparently they really like old meat cans and Sev'ral Timez CD's. Ford thought it was unconventional at first but.." He trailed off as he saw the look on Pacifica's face, her eyebrows raised in amusement. "Oh come on Paz, they're harder to capture than it sounds."

"Well, I think I've heard enough about satyrs and your uncle's inability to comprehend modern music. You wanna watch some Ductective?"

Dipper shrugged, widely flopping his left arm across the blonde's shoulders. "Sounds good to me, just not the one with the ostrich murders. I feel like it has less plot and more 'clawing-to-death'."

Pacifica had a hard time processing Dipper's lack of giant bird slaughter through the blush that spread across her face as soon as his arm rested upon her shoulders. This was not a normal reaction for her, even though this was the norm for their movie nights. She took a short breath and tried to steady herself, pointing the remote at the giant flat screen with a shaking hand. _Just stay calm_ she though _this'll pass soon enough._

Unfortunately for Pacifica, the feeling did not pass. Not a word was exchanged between the two for a whole forty-five minutes as the Ductective attempted to find a flamingo's stolen pearls, but the tension between the two was growing at alarming rates. Dipper was unsure how to react when Pacifica hesitantly rested her head on her shoulder, and no amounts of fowl puns could distract him from his own thoughts on one of his oldest friends.

It had been almost two years for him since his feelings for the heiress had grown past the boundaries of traditional friendship. Mabel certainly didn't help by threatening to tell Pacifica about the entirety of the Lamby Dance if Dipper didn't talk to Pacifica before the twins left for college next year. Dipper's hands began to sweat as the third act of the children's mystery show began to come to a close. Either he spoke to her immediately after the flamingo finished confronting her husband's mistress, or he went back to the Mystery Shack and watch Stan and Mabel exchange however much they bet on the night's outcome.

 _Confidence,_ he thought, _Just have confidence, tell her how you feel, and go back home and prove Stan, Mabel, and hopefully not also Wendy wrong._

The Ductective was standing between between Mrs. Pinkfeather and Madam Cockatoo, quacking a plea for the former to drop the revolver.

Dipper's heartbeat increase, having nothing to do with the fowl murder.

Mrs. Pinkfeather held the gun in shaky feathers, her front feathers curling around the trigger.

Dipper turned his eyes to the blonde next to him, struggling to get over the fear that was coating his heart.

Madam Cockatoo screamed out as the flamingo pulled the trigge-

 _*Bloop*_

The flatscreen went black just before the episode came to a dreadful end. Dipper turned to look at Pacifica, whose forefinger rested on the remote's power button. What was the cause of _that?_ She and Dipper had seen far worse shows before (both in quality and amount of drama) and he recalled them watching it with her just last week, during which he listened to her critique of their poor portrayal of the upper class. The heiress slowly sat up and faced her adventurous companion, and to Dipper she looked like she was going to be sick. Her lips, though bearing a light coating of deep red lipstick looked dry. Despite the blush on her cheeks, her skin looked as white as Gideon Gleeful's hair, and her eyes were wide with anguish. Her chest was rising and falling at an alarming rate, and Dipper wondered if he should offer medical treatment.

"Paz," he asked tentatively, "Are you ok?"

The blonde opened her mouth to respond, but her tongue had gone dry and her throat betrayed her. "I-I'm…" was all she could stutter out, those damned brown eyes wide concern holding her voice back.

"Pacifica you look sick," Dipper said gently, "Is it about your mom? You know you weren't responsible for tha-"

"Why do you care?"

Dipper was taken aback by this. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He opened his mouth to ask what on earth she meant, but Pacifica cut across him.

"Why do you care about me, Dipper Pines? Everyone I've known, my parents, my friends, my family physicians, even my _therapist_ haven't given a damn about me. Why are you always there for me? Why did you come over earlier this week at _three in the freaking morning?_ Why did you comfort me back in that room five years ago? Why?!"

Tears were forming over Pacifica's fury-red face, and her balled fists were shaking. Despite looking like she could punch Dipper (an action Dipper had seen _kill_ gnomes), she immediately went slack and fell into Dipper's chest, sobbing into his shoulder.

"What did I do to deserve a friend like you?"

Dipper's face had gone white with shock from the past few minute's change in mood. The seventeen-year-old gingerly wrapped his arms around the girl crying into his shirt. "Paz…" Dipper muttered into her ear. "Y-you are a human being. You don't need to earn people caring about you, you should have them no matter who you are or what you do. And also," Dipper held her tighter, and he felt her arms slowly snake over his shoulders and behind his neck. "You're my friend. I will always care about you no matter what happens."

After a few minutes passed, Pacifica pulled herself off of Dipper's shoulder, but she left her arms around his neck. This resulted in their noses being only about four inches apart, but Dipper didn't care for the awkwardness for the moment and stared into those spectacular blue eyes. He didn't care that her mascara was leaking down her cheeks, making black streaks similar to the red ones that covered Dipper's flesh. He only looked into her eyes, that seemed to stare fondly into his soul. Pacifica sighed and squeezed her eyelids, pressing out more black-stained tears. "Well," she sniffed, giving him a small smile, "I guess there's no better time to do this."

"What do yo-" Dipper's question was silenced by a pair of lips pressing against his own. His mind raced for second, trying to comprehend this new sensation. Dipper's brain attempted to understand what was happening, but within a millisecond of endeavoring to clarify the new pressure on his lips, his brain cut out like Old Goldie. As he started to become fully aware of what was happening, Dipper felt Pacifica pull away quickly.

"I'm sorry."

Dipper slowly sat up, his lips now matching Pacifica's in gloss choice. The sixteen year old sitting next to him held her face in her hands, but her blush was spreading outward across her ears. Dipper pulled himself closer to her and wrapped his arms around her a second time.

"Paz.."

"I'm really sorry Dipper."

Pacifica sat up and looked Dipper in his eyes again that evening. "I-I just messed this up. I shouldn't have done that. I'm-" Dipper swooped in and silenced her just as she silenced him moments before, this time, however, Dipper was fully aware of what was happening.

He felt Pacifica's arms snake around him and pull him closer, and he ran a hand through her beautiful, sunlight-like hair. After nearly a minute of simply pressing their lips together, Dipper felt something poke through his lips and scrape his teeth. His mouth opened instinctively to welcome in Pacifica's tongue, and he gently moved a hand down towards Pacifica's lower back. Soon enough, they parted to take a breath, Dipper pulling Pacifica's lip with him, causing the heiress to let out a long moan. They fully separated and opened their eyes, staring at each other in wonder. This did not last long, for almost immediately Pacifica slammed back into Dipper, pushing him onto his back against the old, time worn leather sofa. Dipper responded to this third kiss by attempting to push his own tongue through Pacifica's lips, but it felt nothing but air, as Pacifica moved her head off of his mouth and latched onto his neck.

Dipper's gasp of pleasure was replied with Pacifica curling her mouth into a smile as she bit down on a spot just below his left ear. She felt him grip her tighter, trying to pull her closer to himself even there was no space between the two teens. She sucked on the spot for another few seconds before Dipper pushed his own head up, pressing his lips to a similar spot on her neck. Pacifica arched her back in pleasure, letting out a long moan as she felt Dipper detach from her neck and latch on again lower, just above her collar bone.

"D-Dipper," She gasped out, feeling him detach and latch on a second time just above the dip of her cleavage. "L-lets go somewhere else _-ah!"_ The final part of her sentence was lost in a long moan, and Dipper looked up at her, a startled, goofy look on his face. "Y-you mean…" The Northwest smiled down at him and pressed her lips to his as an answer. "Yes," she hummed into him, gently removing her lips from his. "Let's go."

* * *

Franklin always prided himself in seeing the constant maintenance of the Northwest Manor clocks.

True, very _few_ of them were actually used by the Northwest family to tell time, but they were antique, and required constant dusting and inspection. They were masterpieces in his own opinion, some being passed down through the family since the mansion was built. His particular favorites were the ones of Swiss origin, but they were few in number, and their exquisite engineering resulted in little need to heed them much.

Franklin was currently seeing to the cleanliness of the golden and copper gears within the large grandfather clock when he heard the opening and slamming of a door not far behind him. He poked his head out of the late Mr. Northwest's office to see Miss Pacifica pressed up against the outside of the parlor doors, her arms and one of her legs wrapped around the Pines boy. Franklin didn't need to see much to understand that the situation was entirely consensual: he had removed all alcohol from the parlor after Mrs. Northwest's death and the fact that Miss Pacifica seemed to be enjoying herself was an answer enough for him.

The old butler quickly retreated back to the grandfather clock, unsure if he should say anything. After all, though she was his new employer (a significantly _kinder_ one than her parents for that matter), he was her legal guardian until she turned eighteen in a little less that two-years time. The gears in his head turned with great precision like the clock before him; quickly considering all options and what outcome would be best for the young woman over whom he had taken charge.

Unfortunately, like the clock, his gears turned a second too late. Just as he was about to break up the situation by reminding his mistress of her appointment with the family lawyer in the morning, something for which she would have to have _plenty of rest_ the night before, the teens separated, and the heiress ran up the steps towards the western wing of the mansion, giggling as the young man scrambled after her.

Franklin sighed, and turned back to the great contraption of gears, rubies, and patience. "At least she chose the decent one," he muttered, making a mental note to wait on inspecting the western clocks.


	2. Chapter 2: The Morning After

Smooth Sailing by Queen Elizardbeth

Chapter Two: The Morning After

* * *

Daylight softly streamed through the silk curtains. The peacocks in the Northwest gardens slowly raised their heads from underneath their wings, blinking in the new sunlight. Towees and Juncos native to the Oregon mountains piped their songs from their nests, cautiously demanding the consciousness of all other creatures.

As the rays of lights spread across the linen sheets that covered the queen-sized mattress, Pacifica Northwest stubbornly fought against the goal of the songbird. Her hair was surely a tangled mess, she felt the remains of her make-up clinging to her cheeks and lips, and she was currently curled up with something very soft and warm. She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the thing closer to her, desiring to remain in slumber with whatever was bringing her such comfort. She let out a relaxed sigh, and regretfully cracked open an eye, getting full view of the sun that peaked over the mountains that blocked the town's path to the East. No sooner had she done this, however, the thing she around which her arms were wrapped and her hair was draped gave a tired groan, and pulled her closer to itself.

Pacifica closed her eyes and her lips curled into a smile. She pressed her lips to his ear and whispered, "Good-morning, Dipper."

Dipper nuzzled closer into her neck and murmured his own morning greeting. Pacifica gently placed a kiss on his cheek before pulling back. "Ok, time to get up," she muttered groggily, rolling over to grab her phone off of her bed stand. Temporarily blinded by the light of the screen, it took her a second to process all the texts on her screen. Scrolling through them, it only took her a second to realize at fifty-seven texts and twelve missed calls were from Mabel. _Aaaaand there it it,_ she thought, _how do I deal with this?_

She was just about to inform Dipper of the current situation when she heard him groan in annoyance, looking at his own phone with despair. "Paz… Did she call you too?"

"Yep."

"Left voicemail?"

"She left seven."

"Listen to both of our at the same time?"

"Why not?"

The two shared a grimace and brought their phones to their ears, and immediately jerked back, the cacophony of shouts coming from the messages near unintelligible.

 _"_ _DIPPER PINES WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED WE ARE? WADDLES HAD TO HAVE TWELVE NON-CONSECUTIVE MASSAGES BECAUSE HE WAS SO STRESSED! DID YOU RUN OFF AFTER YOU SPOKE TO PACIFICA? WHERE ARE YOU?"_

 _"_ _Paz, I don't know where Dipper is. Please tell me he just fell asleep at your place. Stan is going to drive me over real soon and Ford is starting to look in that elf-orb thing to see if he can find him. I know Dipper wanted to talk to you about some stuff, but I doubt he ACTUALLY told you… Anyway I'll be over around nine-thirty, I hope he didn't do something really stupid again… Oh! This is Mabel, bye!"_

Pacifica rubbed her ear wincing, only now checking the time on her phone. "9:23 am" was displayed across the top, and her eyes widened in alarm. "Dipper!" she whipped around to face the brunette, who was currently rubbing his own ears in pain, still in shock from his sister's message. "Mabel will be here in _five minutes!"_

Dipper mouthed something that would have made his sister cover Waddles' ears in horror. He immediately rolled off the bed and began to put on his clothes as Pacifica began streaked to her closet, desperate to find something to wear. Just as Dipper pulled his sweater back on and Pacifica emerged from her closet, now clad in a Gravity Fall's High "Fighting Beaver" hoodie and skinny jeans, three sound knocks rang from her door.

"Miss Northwest, Mr. Stanly Pines and Miss Mabel Pines are here to collect Mr. Dipper Pines."

The two exchanged a nervous glance, both well aware of the marks each had left on the other's neck and the fact that Dipper now strongly smelled of Coco Mademoiselle. Pacifica sighed, tucking a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. "Let's get this over with…" she muttered, but Dipper grabbed her arm before she reached the door.

"Wha-" Dipper pressed his lips against hers, and she responded by throwing her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her.

They stood like that for nearly a whole minute, until Pacifica gently pulled away. She looked up at him with stern eyes. "You're picking me up Friday and taking me to the Club. Wear something nice, don't worry about the bill, and we're seeing a movie afterwards."

Dipper looked down at her incredulously, and a goofy smile stretched across his face. "Y-yeah alright." He stuttered, having a hard time focusing with those blue eyes only inches from his own. "Does seven-thirty work?"

"Mmm, make it eight. Fewer people in the theater…" she whispered the last bit, her expression softening. She placed a quick peck on his lips before reaching for the elegant bronze door nobs.

* * *

Stan Pines could not believe these rich people. He understood the desire to have a huge house, but how on earth did they get the _whale skeleton_? His eyes wandered across the polished wood floor, most of which was covered by a ornate turkish carpet, and to the portrait of the Northwest family over the fireplace at the center of the grand staircase. Why did his grand-nephew have to become such close friends with _that_ girl from _that_ family? To her credit, something about the innocence painted on the young girl's face reminded Stan of Mabel, but this did not hide the proud looks of Preston and Pricilla Northwest, their charming smiles not reaching their cold, judgmental eyes.

Stan had as much relations with the Northwest family in the past thirty years as he had with his own parents: barely the passing glance. Hector Northwest, the patriarch of the family back when Stan first arrived in the 80's, had been pleasant to Stan up until they actually met. Stan guessed that Hector must have had some relationship with Ford, given the fact that the wealthiest man in Oregon had entered the Mystery Shack (or "Murder Hut", as it was called) immediately after it's grand opening in February of 1982 to see what the town's new "genius" had to offer. Apparently glued-together cornicorns and a man secretly recreating a inter-dimensional portal without even a poet's understanding of physics didn't come across as groundbreaking to Pacifica's grandfather. And of course, the little incident involving the stock on Settlement Day five years ago was ever present in Stanley's mind.

As Stan mused over these old memories, the butler who looked wrinkly enough to be Stan's foot after a bath came down the steps, likely bringing news of his wayward grand-nephew. The butler stopped right before the old man and adolescent woman and, without opening his eyes even a millimeter, said, "Miss Northwest and her guest will be down momentarily."

With that, the butler departed to probably dust of a skeleton or whatever these Northwests hid in their house. Mabel squeezed Stan's arm, the girl mixed with fear, anger, and joy. Stan could't blame her. After everything Dipper's done on his "scientific escapades" with his brother, it was not irrational to believe that Dipper had been attacked by some were-wolf or some rock monster. To be entirely honest, Stan wasn't as mad at Dipper for not replying than he was for making Mabel sad. Stan glanced down at his petite, sweater-clad niece. That girl really became his sunshine in a very dreary life. He wrapped an arm around her and whispered, "You get one free punch at him, the rest of his punishment can be a new makeover." Mabel beamed up at her grunkle, tear stains still fresh on her face. "Oh don't worry about that Grunkle Stan!" Mabel smile turned from a beam to a mischievous smirk. "Waddles and I have it all planned out."

Stan winked at his niece and turned back to face the stairs, down which the little _princess_ and his nephew were descendin- _oh boy._

Stan stared at the two with an expression that was a mixture of shock and amusement. Dipper's collar was pulled up over his neck, a fashion choice that Stan knew was not a habit of Dipper's. His lips had a red shine to them, and the bags around his eyes w-were gone! Dipper? Get a decent night's sleep? Stan had only seen Dipper sleep like the rest of the human race after he and Ford sprinted for two hours from some troll-creature. This was odd for Dipper, but his abnormalities paled in comparison to the blonde next to him. Every time Stan saw the rich drama-queen around town, she was clad in only the finest of clothes and wore excessive amount of perfect make-up. Now, she had on only a pathetic school sweat-shirt and a pare of faded jeans. Her hair, which Stan guessed was worth more than the Mystery Shack or even his brother after that triangle's Midas trick, was tangled and did not look dissimilar to a nest of writhing snakes.

"Dipper!" Stan's niece leapt onto her brother, wrapping him in a hug that could easily break bones. Stan made eye contact with Dipper and saw in his grand nephews eye a plea for help. Stan shrugged, giving him a "Well you _didn't_ answer your phone" smirk. Eventually, the brunette party-planner released her captive and gave him a playful punch on the arm. "Why'dya leave me hanging?" Mabel grabbed her brother by the shoulders. "DO YOU KNOW HOW STRESSED WADDLES IS? And why," Mabel stood on her toes, increasing her height by about four inches to sniff her brother's hair, "Do you smell like Pacifica's fancy perfume?"

A silence hung in the entrance hall of Northwest manor. Mabel glanced back and forth between her brother and her friend, both of whom were beginning to turn pink. "I-uh-mm," Dipper stuttered out, trying to think of some excuse for his current aroma, but just as Mabel's eyes began to narrow suspiciously, Pacifica came to the rescue.

"I couldn't stand that stupid multi-bear smell. Seriously, Pines, do you every wash that hat?" Pacifica gave her hair a flip with a well-manicured hand, and continued to avoid eye contact with any of her guests. "Anyway, I sprayed him with some perfume to mask the smell. I had to use so much that I'll need to order another bottle."

 _Nice try honey,_ Stan thought to himself. _Mabel may be as innocent as Alfred Dreyfus, but you aren't fooling this old grifter._

A wide smile stretched across Stan's face as he wrapped an arm around each of the twin's shoulders. "Well we mustn't overstay our welcome. And besides, I've got a whole busload of tourists coming later who won't rip themselves off!"

Stan steers his two brunette trouble-makers towards the door, but just slowly enough that, out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dipper give Pacifica a small wave, which was returned with a loving smile.

Soon enough, the trio reached Stan's old deathtrap on wheels. Dipper made a start to sit in shotgun, but Mabel pulled him back. "Nu-uh, bro-bro. You get to sit next to me in the back, and you get to tell me _everything_ about you're night!" Mabel gave him a gloating smile, and Dipper slid into the back seat, grumbling his displeasure. As the car started down the long drive back to the main road, Mabel rounded on her brother, resting her cheeks in her hands.

"Sooooo didya' tell her?" Mabel asked, her eyes full of the glee that was spreading from her chin.

"Uh.."

"Aw darn it Dipper!" Mabel threw her arms over her head in exasperation and fixed her brother with an annoyed stare. "This has been going on for _two years_. You HAVE to tell her eventually!" Mabel's hands covered her face. "You spent the _whole night_ with her…"

Dipper tugged on his collar nervously, unknowingly exposing the marks on his neck to the prying eyes that were staring at him in the rear-view mirror.

"Well Dipper, what is that on your neck?" His grunkle shouted with false surprise, causing Dipper to go white with horror and Mabel to look up to see the cause of the new commotion.

"He's right, Dip. What _are_ those?" Mabel prodded one of the marks with her forefinger, causing her brother to wince slightly. "They look like bite-bruises. Did you fight a snager again?" Mabel looked at her brother's eyes with concern, searching for an answer. What she received, however, was Dipper breaking out into a clammy sweat, his eyes darting around, desperately trying to avoid the eyes of his near-clone of a sister. Dipper began to stutter uncontrollably, trying to think of some sort of answer, anything would do.

Stan chuckled as he watched the scene unfold from the front seat. Alright, time to make things worse. "Mabel, it looks like I owe you twenty bucks."

His grand niece look at him in bewilderment. "What? Grunkle Stan, I _lost_ the bet."

"No sweetie, I can guarantee you that you were right, but I don't think we did you're brother justice."

"What do you-" Mabel paused, her eyes widening as it started to fall into place. The perfume Dipper reeked of, the marks on his neck, the fact that he and Pacifica both looked like they had a wrestling match…

Dipper covered his face in despair as Mabel covered her mouth in shock, her eyes sparkling with surprise.

 _Time to finish it_ , Stan thought, and glanced at Dipper in the mirror, giving him a wicked smile.

"So champ, how was that Northwest mattress?"


	3. Chapter 3: Of Siblings

Smooth Sailing by Queen Elizardbeth

Chapter 3: Of Siblings

* * *

No visual beauty, not even the most delicate flower, could compare to the true spender that was the art of science. All brilliant minds agree that there is no person on earth, no Cretan dwelling beneath some dusty rock, can challenge the sturdy rampart that was the quest for the horizon of knowledge.

Stanford Pines was one of these great soldiers on this quest, his own studies piercing beyond the borders of this reality and the comprehension of the average man. From his perils in the dark seas of dimension 40~/3, to his battles with other old explores over the Great Gems of Zigûrun the Great.

Right now, deep within his own halls of exploration, Stanford Pines studied the reaction between the elegant Rose Quarts, which appeared to be expanding it's own force field, and a mixture of potassium, argon, and mercury. Stanford gently lifted the vial containing the mixture. He had to be careful, for this was the last of his supply of the concoction of his own creation. _Careful, careful,_ he though, _Just gotta pour it onto the fiel-_

A high-pitched shriek echoed through the laboratory, hitting the right levels to shatter the vial in the mad-doctor's hand, it's contents smoking on the floor. Stanford covered his ears in agony, charging to the elevator to see the source of his niece's peril.

The vending machine door burst open, scraping over the floor of the gift shop. Stanford barely entered the room when Melody removed one finger from massaging her temples to point towards the kitchen in the Shack. Ford nodded, ever grateful that Soos' wife took up Wendy's job ever since she went to work in her dad's lumber company, and hastened into the kitchen, unsure what to expect.

As he rounded the corner, a not-unfamiliar sight met his eyes. Dipper sat at the table, his forehead resting on the edge, his arms wrapped around the rest of his head, while his sister stood next to him shaking him, still screaming, her mouth opened in a wild grin. Stanley sat across from the twins, the _Gravity Falls Gossiper_ masking his face, a mug of coffee at his elbow.

Stanford staggered forward, his hands still covering his abused ear drums. "Mabel, would you _please_ stop screaming? I can barely hear myself think!"

Mabel held up a finger, signaling that she would cease momentarily as her lungs emptied for the seventeenth time that morning. Eventually, the noise ceased, and his grand-niece took several deep breaths, the grin never leaving her face.

Stanford sighed in relief, lowering his buffers from the jargon. His mouth twitched into a small smile as he looked at his youthful brunette kin. "Thank you, Mabel. Now would you please explain to me what's going on? And why does Dipper look like they just recalled Dungeon, Dungeons, and More Dungeons?"

Dipper groaned in annoyance as Stanly chuckled from behind the newspaper. "Sixer, you're gonna wanna sit down for this. It appears that Dipper here did some research into a field you have never _penetrated._ "

Stanly leaned back in his seat at his own innuendo as Dipper sent him a death glare from across the table and his brother's expression shifted from confusion to excitement. "Really?" Stanford pulled up a chair and sat next to his apprentice, eager to hear of the new realm of exploration. "Where was this, Dipper? Was it a new species of centaur? I had a hunch those tracks didn't look fully equestrian, but still not quite bovine. Or was it with that hidden bird-people city? I haven't been able to pinpoint which dimension…" His words slowed to a halt as he met Dipper's eyes. His grand-nephew's face was very red, his expression one of annoyance and mild anger. Stanford's eyes darted to the faded oval marks that were on Dipper's face, and he saw some small bruises just below Dipper's left ear. "Dipper, were you _attacked?_ " Stanford's eyes widened briefly, his mind racing to identify the creature that could have done such particular damage. "Was it an eye-clopse or was it one of those barf-fairies we found near the bunker?" He stood up quickly, turning to grab the first-aid kit. "They don't look too-bad, probably just need a cleaning swab. I do like whatever attack-spray they put on you. Very…aromatic." He smiled at Dipper as he opened an alcohol swab, his face shifting to a look of confusion as Mabel covered her eyes with her hand and his brother sighed in exasperation.

"Am I missing something or…" Stanford's trailing question was answered by silence, soon broken by an obnoxious pop song.

 _"_ _Disco Giiiiiirl, Coming throooooooough, Disco giiiiirl, that girl is yo-"_

Dipper hastily pulled his phone from his pocket and, with a scarlet face, fled the room, breathing into the speaker "Hey Paz…"

"Tell her I want to meet for coffee! We need to have some girl-talk!" Mabel called after her retreating brother, who was jumping up the stairs to the attic. "I'm happy for you!"

Mabel sat in the empty chair with a sigh. "I'm proud of him," Stanly said over the top of _The Gossiper_. "He told'er that he liked her, and things went well."

"Don't you think it's going a little _fast,_ Grunkle Stan?" Mabel muttered, biting her lip. "I know they'll be happy, and this sound pretty serious, but I don't want either of them hurt…"

"Stanly, what am I missing?" Stanford growled in annoyance. "I lost my last supply of whatever Mabel created in the blender because of this, and I can't just jump back and watch her re-create it!"

Stan sighed, tucking his newspaper under his arm. "You know the Northwest girl, right? The rich one who's mom OD'd?"

Stanford raised an eyebrow. "Of course I know her. She's been taking up a lot of Dipper's valuable time, leaving me with him unfocused and having to drop stuff to take her calls."

"Well, Smart Guy, if you feel like you're not seeing much of Dip _now_ , well, prepare for spending every Friday and Saturday _without_ him entirely."

"What on earth are you talking about, Stanly? Why on earth would Dipper stop being here on Fridays?"

Mabel rolled her eyes. "What we're _trying_ to say is that Dipper and Pacifica are significantly closer now." _Seriously Grunkle Ford aren't you a doctor of EVERYTHING?_

Stanford's head whipped back and forth between the two. "What are you-" His question was halted when he felt his grand-niece give him a quick kiss on the cheek, and immediately spitting in disgust.

"Aw, Grunkle Ford, didn't you stop burning your face?" Mabel hissed, wiping her lips on her napkin, trying to remove any remaining charred facial hair. "Anyway, what does _that_ look like?"

Mabel took a picture of her Grunkle's cheek with her phone, and showed him the faint oval mark of lipstick.

Stanford wiped the spot on his cheek and squinted at the screen. Seriously, how did the youth of today have cataracts that could survive such a glare? After a few seconds of analysis, Stanford muttered, "It looks like the marks on Dipper's face."

"Yeeeeeeesssss, and they got there how?" Mabel prompted, her patience waining.

Stanford's mind drew a blank, until the answer slowly reared its head from the fog.

"Dipper was attacked by a Succumbs?!"

"No you moron! Dipper got with Pacifica!"

Stanford turn to look at his brother, who was seething with frustration as Mabel covered her mouth, appalled by her preferred Grunkle's exclamation.

"Grunkle Stan!" Mabel scolded, crossing her arms. "Its more than just _that_. They're going out on Friday."

"What did they do last night?"

"…"

"So you see my point. I just hope this doesn't have any 'unexpected consequences'."

Mabel sighed, pushing back from the table and got to her feet. "I'm going to check on him. I think we may have teased him a little too much."

As she left the room, her Grunkle called after her. "Just remember sweetie. You're shift starts in half an hour, we can't keep Melody there forever!"

Stanford stared at his brother, his head still reeling from the news. His apprentice… Holy Moses!

"You need a drink, Stanford?" His twin inquired, pushing his rather "strong smelling" coffee towards the befuddled genius. "Here, have some. It's dad's 'Monday Blend'."

"Stanly, you're alright with this?" His brother exclaimed, "This could end very bad for him. Seriously, I remember when I-"

"Ford, your relationships with girls all ended almost as bad as your relation with that triangle, and the last time I gave him any major advice besides the "Three C's", it blew up in his face. He'll be fine. He's responsible and she loves him. Didn't you see them curled up after 'My Mummy's a Werewolf 2'?"

"I see your point," Stanford put his face in his hands. "But isn't he growing up a bit fast? I mean, he _and_ Mable are going to college next year. It's fantastic that Andrew and Helen let them move here, but we only have eleven months left."

Stan sighed, taking a long draught of café la Jack Daniels, and turned to face his mirror. "I've been thinkin' the exact same thing, Ford," Stan muttered, "But those kids have more than grown up. They've been through hell, literally, and we both knew we couldn't have them forever. I'm just happy that we have them now, and we'll have them for the rest of our lives. Seriously, Mabel's planning to move back after art school! And Dipper," Stan bit his lip, trying to carefully select his words, "He loves us and he loves Mabel. He'll come back. Besides, if this thing with Blondie is permanent, what do you think the chances that miss perfect will _leave_ her quarter-mile-by-cruiseship sized mansion?"

Stanford smiled, gently removing his glasses to remove his dusty finger-prints. "You have a very good point Stanly."

Stanly smiled. "Of course I do. I'm the people's Pines. You, however, are the one who has to clean up whatever is making that burning-barf smell in the basement."

Stanford gave him a questioning look before the scent from the floorboards hit his nose. Stanford sighed in exasperation, and reached for his brother's mug.

* * *

Dipper sat at the desk near the attic window-seat, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose, the other holding the phone into which he was recounting the events since he last saw his new-girlfriend.

 _"_ _Did Mabel even take a breath?"_ Pacifica's voice buzzed in his ear, still tingling from his sister's shrieks.

"They're very fast and subtle. She's had years of practice."

 _"_ _Wow. How was it once you got back to the Shack?"_

Dipper closed his eyes, the memories still filling him with annoyance. "Stan made coffee, Mabel kept yelling, and eventually Ford came up."

 _"_ _How did he take it?"_

Dipper sighed, rubbing his temple with his free hand, the sound of Waddles chewing on an apple on Mabel's bed beginning to vex him. "To be honest, Paz, I don't think he _figured it out_. I mean, he's a genius, but I seriously think he didn't have a clue! He thought the kiss marks were from a eye-clopes!"

Pacifica chuckles made it over the phone. _"I'm not shocked. Human relationships never seemed to be his area of expertise."_

"You do have a point…" Dipper mused, remembering the incident at the grocery store where Ford tried to attack a teen in a yellow t-shirt, demanding where "Rick" was.

 _"_ _We still on for Friday?"_

"Totally."

 _"_ _Great. Dip?"_

"Yes?" Dipper hesitated, worried slightly by his girlfriend's pause.

 _"_ _Can we… Can we keep this on the down-low until then? I-its not that I don't want to date you, it's just, people will get jealous, rumors will spread, I mean, the paparazzi have already been a pain since Pricilla died. Imagine if they found out about you dating me. The Shack will be surrounded by them for days!"_

"Well I doubt Stan'll mind," Dipper muttered, "But I understand. You've been though enough with them, and I respect that."

 _"_ _Thanks babe,"_ Pacifica paused, and Dipper barely heard a second voice over the phone. _"Ok, thanks,"_ Pacifica said to the new speaker, and sighed into the microphone, sounding particularly annoyed. _"I've got to go. Franklin just reminded me that I'm meeting with the lawyer later about the Will. I need to get ready."_

Dipper grinned. "I thought you liked the way I smelled?"

 _"_ _I wasn't completely lying to Mabel. That hat smells stronger than Toby waiting outside the Manor each summer. Seriously, YOU NEED TO WASH IT."_

Dipper chuckled, "I'll do it for you."

 _"_ _Thank you, Dippy."_ Dipper blushed at _that_ particular version of his name. _"I'll text you later."_

"Bye."

 _"_ _Bye."_ Pacifica made a kiss sound over the phone and hung up, leaving Dipper alone in the dusty attic.

This solidarity did not last, as the sounds of marching feet echoed up the stairs that led down to the rest of the old house. Less than thirty seconds after the call ended, the door burst open, and the pig that rested on the pink and purple bed leapt across the room to great his owner. Mabel reached down to scratch behind her pet's ears, and then turned to her brother with concerned eyes. She sat on the desk and faced her brother. "You doing ok, bro-bro?"

Dipper looked up at her and sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. "Yeah, I'll be alright." His sister sighed, putting her face in her hands. "I'm sorry, I took it to far," tears began to form around her eyes, "I'm always doing this. I'm really sorry. I'm really, really, sorry."

Dipper stood up and pulled his sister into a tight embrace. "Mabel, _you_ weren't the annoying one. _Stan_ was the one who was making really awkward."

Mabel sniffed, and looked at her brother with bloodshot eyes. "It's not just that, Dipper. Y-you have another girl in your life!" Mabel sobbed into Dipper's shoulder. "Y-y-you're going to b-be with her more than me! You're not going to hang out with me anymore!"

Dipper rested his head on his sister's shoulder, completely understanding his perspective. Ever since he was twelve he secretly resented Mabel going after so many boys. He was jealous of their time together, and he wasn't willing to give it up. To be honest, that's part of the reason that he wanted to grow up so quickly. He knew that that time loss would happen, even though Mabel was blissfully unaware of it, and he just wanted to get it over with, or just simply pass it by.

"Mabel," Dipper whispered in her ear, "You will _always_ be my sister. If Bill wasn't able to permanently separate us, our relationships certainly won't either. Pacifica may be my girlfriend, but I can't dress in twin costumes with her for Summerween, nor can I go on adventures with her the same way I can with you."

Mabel took in her brother's words, and eventually ceased crying. She leaned back, and smiled at her twin. "Soooo, what's are you're plaaaaaaans?"

Dipper sighed and looked his twin dead in the eye. "Mabel, Pacifica wants this _secret_."

"What?" Mabel shout in shock, "She doesn't want people to know she managed to land you?!"

"Mabel it's not that simpl- hang on," Dipper narrowed his eyes at her, "What do you mean _landed me?_ Last time I checked, _Pacifica_ was the one who has people falling over her."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Dip, girls have been checking you out for weeks. Candy, Grenda, and I have been waiting for you to notice, but I guess it all went over your head. Probably a good thing…" Mabel's thoughts drifted towards how easily her brother's head was inflated, but she turned back to the matter at hand. "But what is all this secrecy nonsense?!"

Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose again, trying to figure out how to explain this. "Pacifica has had trouble with the paparazzi since last week. Pricilla's death was big news, and she doesn't want us roped into all of it."

"Stan wouldn't mind the publicity."

"Exactly what I said, but still, she asked and I promised. So would you please keep it quiet?"

Mabel huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine," she sniffed, "But can I at least tell Wendy and Soos?"

Dipper debated with himself internally for a moment, before slowly responding, "…I guess, Wendy doesn't gossip much, and the rest of the gang is out of town, besides Robbie and Tambrey. And Soos would find out eventually."

"Thanks, bro-bro." Mabel's watch chimed, signaling ten minutes until her shift. She groaned, and turned to her brother. "Gotta get to work, you coming?"

Dipper shrugged. "Got nothing better to do," he muttered, following her to the stairs. Suddenly, a question he meant to ask earlier came to his mind. "Oh, by the way, how did Ford take it?"

Mabel giggled, and she turned to brother with a smirk. "Twelve PHD's do not make up for lack of social understanding, Dipper. I tried to be gentle about it, but Fordy needed something a little _less_ than gentle to get the point."

Dipper grimaced. "Can you define 'less than gentle'?"

Mabel sighed. "Stan method, though effective, made Leaderaur look as gentle as Soos with little Stanly Maria."

Dipper groaned as the two descended the stairs, marching to the land of over-priced merchandise.


	4. Chapter 4: At Gravity Malls

Smooth Sailing by Queen Elizardbeth

Chapter 4: At Gravity Malls Where Trends Become Fly

* * *

 **Notes:**

At this point, the Chapters are far further apart from each other in time. This one is set a few days later, the next will be further past that, etc. They become a bit more like one-shots, but they'll all be part of the same story. I hope you all stay with me after this, and I hope we all end the series' end. I'll probably still be posting even after the finale.

* * *

In the town of Gravity falls, between the hub of rural weirdness and a small ridge of hills that made a barrier to the north, rested a long, two-story building filled with consumer desire. It's name being a twist on the town's own title, Gravity Malls housed most of the chain stores that were unable to find a home in the village's center. In that great hall could be found enough video-games to keep one up all night, a large variety of black, moody clothing that was born by the town's favorite morgue-and-media emo couple, and many other shops at which all citizen's of Trembly's town could find that which they sought.

Among those who frequented the mall on weekends was the town's most popular and most wealthy teen. Each Sunday afternoon she could be seen browsing the jewelry shops in search for a new necklace, leaving the Maelstrom department store with bags full of the newest fashions, and, at all times, flanked by her two lackeys who could strike fear into the hearts of whomever dared approach their leader. Both popular in their own right, they made great names for themselves across all classes. But their terror was nothing compared to Pacifica's. So much as making un-permitted eye contact was viewed as taboo amongst the youth of the town, and the social consequences were near unbearable. She knew of the many eyes that admired and feared her as she moved through her domain, and allowed them to watch, knowing she could drive them away by simply flicking her hair, the threat of being noticed terrifying to them.

At the moment, the three were joined by two others: Hank Wegewood and Dylan Mortimer, both member's of Oregon's upper class. They were among the few that were allowed to approach the founder's heiress, and even then, they could be frozen out with a single word. Hank, though not the most athletic of fellows, set the towns trends for the male sex, displaying each season's new style with a new suit or cravat. He was very sophomoric, but he knew when he should cease flaunting his knowledge to the adoring crowds. His father owned the remaining land that did not fall under the shadow of the Northwests, and his mother was one of the top managers of the Roadkill County Hospital.

Dylan, however, was very different from his voguish friend, despite also coming from a background of wealth. Dylan was one of the linebacker's on the High-school football team, his great stature and width making the job easy for him. The only thing that held him back from the position of Quarter Back was the slight issue of him being duller than a blunt ax. His father, the town's most prestige banker, had made a deal with the school that resulted in a boost in both sport's and art's finances and Dylan's graduation being ensured. Despite this, he was not _completely_ inept. His stance at 6'8 and shoulder width of over three feet made him desirable to the ladies (a fact that he flaunted at the freshmen), and only threatened by the Corduroy family and that she-monster Grenda. He was the _only_ person in Gravity Falls (or, at least, he _assumed_ he was) to dared admit his love for Pacifica Northwest, a desire that was _not_ reciprocated. Pacifica tolerated him, and had on multiple occasions tried to subtly expel him from the group, but the town's business politics would not permit such a deed, and so Dylan joined them.

The town's most famous teens currently lounged at a small table outside "Sundollars", the towns first and only chain coffee store. Ever since the chain opened up in the 70's, the townspeople begged for the over-priced caffeine stand to grace their presence, and it wasn't until Preston Northwest, as his daughter's request, called up the chain's headquarters did it arrive. Such a deed earned the Northwests more love in the hearts of the townspeople for the next few years, even though the restaurant was tucked into the back corner of the mall.

Pacifica played with the straw sticking out of her low-fat, orange-zest, latte mocha as she pondered the group's next course of action. Her attire was casual for her usual standards: her hair was wrapped in an elegant bun and her make up was done as to which she was custom seen while in public. She wore a white blouse and a pair of black skinny jeans that greatly defined her rump, and a pair of tan heeled boots covered her legs up to mid-calf. She had already purchased a new supply of fall-line make up, ordered a white pea-coat for the cold weather that would surely roll in within the next month, and politely signed an autograph for a much younger girl (She knew that she was famous, but did she seriously have _fans?_ ). _I could get some new earrings,_ she mused, _I think some studs would look nice with that new scarf, but I also need stuff for next Saturday…_

"Something on your mind, Pacifica?" The addressee stopped staring into nowhere from behind her Dior sunglasses and turned to the girl on her left. "You look a little stressed," Audra reset her face on her hand, her brown curls falling over her arm as she stated her comment.

Pacifica sighed. "Just thinking about next weekend," she muttered, her posture falling ever so slight, "I'm going to need a new outfit. I don't own an appropriate black dress."

"Just wear that dress you wore to homecoming," Dylan smiled cockily across from her, "The bare-back and v-neck were so sexy."

An uncomfortable silence followed what Dylan must have assumed was a flirtatious comment. He was lucky that the girl of his lust was wearing sunglasses, because the look she was giving him would have sent any other person into a panic attack. "Dylan," Hank addressed his foolish friend, "What on _earth_ possessed you to believe that a _party_ dress be proper attire for a _funeral?"_ He gently placed down his own black coffee, straightening his blue blazer as he turned to face the jock. "Not only would she be freezing in this cold, but how would that be remotely _appropriate?_ "

As Dylan attempted to sputter out an answer, Tiffany's eyes scanned the mall, searching for something to distract them from this awful situation. _C'mon, c'mon, there's got to be something to get us past thi- aha!_ Her green eyes lit with malicious glee as she nudged her still fuming leader. "Hey Pacifica, brace-face at nine o'clock."

Pacifica slowly turned to see whatever had caught her inferior's eye, and her face immediately drained of color. There, walking towards Sundollar at a leisurely pace, was Mabel Pines, linked arm in arm with her two friends: The hulking figure of Grenda McKarlen, captain of the girl's wrestling team, and Candy Chiu, the hobbit-sized leader of the school's physic's club. The trio was giggling to each other, their volumes changing from whispers to shouts rapidly, and appeared to be completely absorbed in their conversation, so much so that their were blissfully unaware of the many social codes they were soon going to break. And trailing behind them, much to Pacifica's delight, but still horror, was Dipper, looking very much like he'd rather not be there.

The rest of the table looked to where their superior's attention had been drawn, and Pacifica's three other companions smirked. "Well well well," Audra hissed to her friend's ears, "If it isn't the three stooges and the freak. How did they even get past security in _those_ clothes? I mean, who tie-dyes a sweater?" Venomous giggles erupted from Audra and Tiffany, and Hank took it as his queue to add his opinion. "Can't that Pines boy ever wear something other than that trench coat and hat? That dark tan looks positively appalling! And are those.." His eyes narrowed to Dipper's hands, which were currently covered by a pair of extremely bulky, crudely made gloves which appeared to be made of some kind of reptile skin, "Oh my god, those gloves are hideous."

Dylan chuckled darkly, his eyes prying towards Dipper in a dangerous manner. He had heard a lot about the Pines boy being some kind of adrenaline freak, and he had often seen Dipper walk the halls on Monday morning sporting a new bandage or some kind of limp. "Doesn't he have a bunch of weird tattoos?" Dylan whispered to the group, as their new entertainment passed their table and approached the counter, greeting the goth-ish barista. "He always has on some shirt in the locker room, but I know his arms are practically covered in all these little symbols and runes."

Hank grimaced at this, never taking his eyes of that hideous trucker cap. "You are not mistaken, my friend," Hank muttered to the group. "My mom told me about it after he left the hospital last year after he got impaled by…they _said_ it was a tree branch, but it looked a hell of a lot like a spear if you ask me." Hank enjoyed the wide eyes the two girls were giving him, eager to devour this new piece of gossip. A proud smile crossed his face, and he continued with his report. "She said that he has this really big circular tattoo on his chest, and all these snakes running down his back. The tattoos must have been poorly done, because they're all black and look like they've been _burned_ on. My guess his creepy uncle put them on." He paused, taking a sip of his coffee, allowing his theatric training to let the suspense build. He looked straight across to Pacifica, who, despite wearing an expression remained neutral throughout his tale, gave a small nod, permitting him to continue. "The snakes actually spread out from the circle and spread to his back, and they make, like, fire patterns. But the circle," He shuddered for a moment, both for dramatic effect and in memory of the sketch his mother showed him. "It's really big and stretched. There are a bunch of little symbols around the edge. There was a six-fingered hand, a pentagram, some weird hieroglyphs, and in the center," He grabbed a napkin and pulled a pen out of his pocket, making a crude drawing in the blue ink. "This." He pushed the napkin to the center of the table, on which rested a doodle of a triangle with a cat-like eye in the center, a large "X" stretching across the triangle's edges, the two lines meeting on the slit of a pupil. Hank tapped the the lines of the "X". "These were made afterword. He refused to say how it happened, but mom said it looked like it was a dull object, probably a kitchen knife or a razor."

A small gasp came from Pacifica's guard and Dylan, but Pacifica remained silent. She knew for a fact that what covered her boyfriend's back and chest was no tattoo, but an eternal reminder of the Weirdmaggedon five years ago. She remembered how Dipper and Mabel had forced Bill back into his dimension to decay for eternity, but Bill made sure they remembered him. He put the brand on Dipper, nearly incinerating the boy in the process. This not only served as a mark of torment on Dipper, but the eye allowed Bill to look into their dimension like a window, hearing and seeing all that Dipper experienced. She noticed the scars that blinded the demon's image last night, but she assumed that they had always been there, and she didn't ask because… well, she was focused on _other_ things last night.

Dylan snorted. "Well that explains why he never takes of his shirt. The freak must think it's 'too cool' to be flaunted around. I wonder what else he's hiding…" He trailed off as their subject and his own group grabbed their coffee from the counter and sat down at a table not far from them. Dylan couldn't tell if the idiots hadn't noticed the five most popular teens in the town, or if they _did_ but decided to break all rules of social standing. Dipper's back was to them, but Mabel sat across from them, her rhinestone tie-dye sweater glittering in the soft lighting. Dylan glanced at the group, pondering his next move to prove himself to Pacifica. He looked at Hank expectantly, seeking his advice, but all he found was the young gentleman staring at Mabel, not entirely in disapproval. Dylan turned to admire his own beloved who, unlike the rest of the group, was typing something into her phone, still wearing her slightly-peeved poker face. Dylan made up his mind, and turned in his seat to face the lower-class group.

"Hey Pines, wanna tell us about you're freaky tattoo?"

The three girls at the other table ceased their chattering immediately, the medium-sized brunette's eye's wide with shock staring at them over her brother's shoulder, and Dipper slowly turned in his seat to face the larger teen. Dipper's expression was a mixture of fear, anger, and utter bewilderment. Mabel locked eyes with Pacifica, shocked that her brother's girlfriend would tell her possy about something so painful for Dipper. Pacifica's eyes darted to Mabel, sending a quick message that she was not responsible, and began to burn with hatred as they landed on Dylan, who was smiling wickedly at Dipper as he stuttered out a response.

"I-uh, I-I don't know what your talking about." Dipper looked like he wanted to cry and stab Dylan, but this only added fuel to the fire.

"Yes you do! The one with the triangle and snakes. Was that old freak drunk when he welcomed you into his cult, or was that the only way to get Rosie to approach you to give you some ink?"

The rest of the customer's had directed their attention to the nine teens, perplexed by this new commotion. Tambrey looked like she was ready to leap over the counter and come to her friend's defense, but Mabel beat her to it.

"Hey butt-face!" Mabel shouted at the adolescent boy, "Go pick on someone else!"

"Yeah!" Grenda shouted, her voice booming through the restaurant, "Don't make me break you like a twig!"

The She-hulk's words did little more than cause his ears pain, but Dylan knew better than to get in a fight with her. "Hey braces, lizard girl, how about you let this guy take care himself?" Dylan jeered as Tiffany and Audra giggled wickedly. He smirked over his shoulder to Hank, whom he was surprised to see had donned a mortified expression. Dylan shrugged it off, enjoying brining this kid's ego to his knees.

Dipper closed his eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to steady his nerves. After a moment, he faced his adversary with false pleasantly spreading across his face, a mocking smile bending his scars. "I must admit the tattoo parlor is not a place that I frequent, and the markings on my arms are of my uncle's penmanship," he mused to Dylan in a relaxed tone, wondering if the consequences to his next sentence would be worth it, "But I must surrender to _your_ boldness. Most people can't pull of facial tattoos in such a… unique manner." Mabel's mouth stopped displaying her teeth like a cat and turned into a small "o", the corner's of her mouth curling slightly as she tried to contain her laughter. Candy and Grenda were also attempting to hide their giggles behind their hands as Dylan looked at Dipper, completely baffled by his statement.

"I don't _have_ facial tattoos, genius."

Dipper's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. As Mabel, Candy, and Grenda shook in their seats from silent laughter, Dipper allowed mouth dropped open to let his fake sympathy drip out, and he stretched out a hand as if to comfort Dylan while delivering terrible news.

"Oh," Dipper said in a stage whisper so that all in the quiet coffee shop could hear, leaning forward with a face of false pity, "That's quite _unfortunate."_

Dipper's sister and two friends exploded with laughter behind him. Several of the customers near them made stifled giggles at the teen's comment. Audra and Tiffany looked at Dipper in shock, Hank's hands were currently over his mouth, and Pacifica placed her sunglasses on the table while wearing a very pleased smirk.

Dylan, however, did not take it as well as the surrounding crowd. Rather than accepting defeat, he leapt to his feet, staring down at Dipper with eyes blazing with wrath. He leered down at the Pines boy, his mouth twisted in a furious sneer. "You maybe want to take that back?" he hissed through gritted teeth, mapping out his next move. "I'm afraid I can't," smiled up Dipper, "Lying is not one of my greater skills."

Dylan snatched Dipper by his collar and slammed him against the wall, the brown-filter pictures shaking. Several of the patrons of the coffee shop jumped out of their seats and dashed out, desperate to get away from the soon-to-be fight. Mabel leapt to her feet to defend her brother, but was held back by her two friends, both of whom didn't want her to get into legal trouble.

"Oi!" Tambrey shouted from behind the counter, "Stop it right now or I WILL call security!"

Dylan ignored the barista's warning and looked down at Dipper, his face as red as a gnome's cap. "I'll tell my father about this," he growled at the shorter boy, who was greatly regretting his former actions. "Your family will be out of the bank. Your property will be ours, your possessions will be ours. _Everything you own will be ours._ "

Dipper gulped, well aware that his threat was empty. Grunkle Stan didn't trust banks due to the fact that they were way too hard to scam (better trust the words of a con on that one), and so all the elder Pines' twins funds could be found in the Mystery Shack safe or certain uncharted areas of the woods. But still, this didn't change the fact that Dipper was currently being held against a wall by the human equivalent of an Manotaur. Dylan pressed Dipper further into the wall, and his wrath was temporarily broken by strange red marks he saw through Dipper's bangs.

"Well what is that?" Dylan muttered with glee as he found something new about which he could torment his victim.

Dipper went pale when he realized that the steep view to Dylan's face was unbroken by a familiar blue brim. It appeared that, while being lifted from his seat, Dipper's trademark hat had fallen off his head, living his birthmark semi-exposed.

"Is that…" Dylan pushed the bangs up, revealing the constellation on Dipper's forehead, "It is! Well aren't you just a little _abhorrence._ "

Pacifica had had enough. Being no longer stunned by the past few minutes' events, she pushed back her chair and marched to the duo, ready to rain hell on Dylan. Her eye's darted to Mabel briefly to ensure that she would not be stopped, but she halted when she saw the extroverted teen's face. Mabel and her two captors looked paralyzed with horror, their eyes all locked on Dipper. Pacifica turned to see what was the source of their fear was, and turning back towards her boyfriend, became frozen just like them. Dipper's mouth had turned from one gritted in terror to one twisted into something between a snarl and a skeleton's grin. His face appeared stretched like a tanning hide, and his eyes, _his eyes_!

His pupils had stretched lengthwise, rendering them nearly like lizard slits. His brown irises still were around their perimeters, but the arteries on the sides of his bulging eyeballs had began to glow electric blue. A faint yellow glow was coming from them and it was growing brighter by the second. His eyes remained round, not fully turning into the shape of the eye branded on his chest.

If Dylan hadn't become aware of Dipper's change, he became well aware of it in the next few seconds. Dipper grabbed Dylan by the throat and spun him against the wall, making a slight *crack* echo through the building as the back of Dylan's head made a small dent in the wood behind him. "Do you wanna now something interesting about that tattoo?" Dipper hissed, his face no longer holding any glee but only pure rage, "It wasn't the only thing he left me to remember him by. I've got a bit of him in me now, and it really likes to show up when I GET PISSED OFF!" Dipper pushed Dylan up the wall until Dipper's arm was fully extended, the fact that Dylan was seventy pounds heaver than he irrelevant. Dipper brought his free hand to his mouth and he bit down on his dragon-hide glove, pulling it off with his teeth. His hand, formerly noted for its many scars and burns, was now riddled with some form of writing, mostly circular with long tails branching out from the loops. "You like it?" Dipper waved his hand in Dylan's face, the writing beginning to glow blood red, "Despite that most of my tattoos are professionally done, my uncle _did_ make these. You gotta get the daemon speech just right, or things may go up in flames. Maybe…" Dipper's mouth stretched into that horrible smile again, and he lowered Dylan just enough that his mouth could reach Dylan's ear. "Maybe you will too."

"Dipper, _stop."_

Dipper whipped around to face whoever dared interrupt him from his revenge, but only found himself staring into enchanting blue eyes. Dipper knew those eyes. They seemed to be coming through a black haze, but he knew them. Those eyes…loved him. They comforted him. They cared about him. Pacifica placed a perfectly-manicured hand on Dipper's arm, those eyes pleading for him.

"Dipper, let him go."

Dipper's eyes changed back to their original shape and color, and his expression dropped to one of a man coming out of a fog. Dipper lowered Dylan back to the floor and released his hand from his victim's throat, never looking away from those eyes.. Dylan crumpled at Dipper's feet dazed, coughing and rubbing the bruise forming on the back of his skull. "Paz…" Dipper murmured, still staring at those eyes in confusion, not entirely sure of his past deeds. Pacifica stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Dipper, pulling him into a hug. "Yes, it's me Dip. He's not here. He's gone, you and Mabel got rid of him." Dipper began to tremble, tears forming at the edges of his eyes. He gingerly wrapped his arms around her as if she were a china doll, and she let him gently cry into her $500 blouse.

Pacifica made eye contact with Mabel over Dipper's shoulder, and her eyes darted from Mabel, to Dylan, and back to Mabel. The brunette, quickly understanding the message, reaching into her home-made purse and pulled out a long, white, smooth stick, and she stepped to Dylan in three strides, gently tapping him with the bleached wand. Dylan's eyes became glazed and his breathing eased, the bruises at his throat fading. Mabel then also tapped the wall that Dipper cracked, and it looked as good as new. And with that, Mabel repaired her brother's damage, a role _he_ usually filled for _her._

Dipper clutched Pacifica closer, his body still shaking. He sobbed harder into her shoulder, terrified of the memories quickly washing over him. "He w-w-was here," he stuttered, his tears choking him, "He t-t-ook control."

"He can't Dip," Pacifica whispered to him, well aware of the people staring at them. "He's rotting in hell right now. You saved us." She loosened her grip on him and looked into his brown eyes. "You save _me._ "

He sighed and his body relaxed as he looked into those familiar blue eyes, the eyes he wanted to see for the rest of his life…

Pacifica placed a kiss on his lips, wanting to ensure her love was completely healed. Dipper responded with great vigor, pulling her closer, wanting there to be no separation between the two. She moved her arms up as to free his arms, her hands holding on to the back of his neck. Pacifica smirked into the kiss at her boyfriend's _boldness_ as he lowered a hand to her waistline, but she allowed the display of affection. They had already gone past the point of no-return.

A small cough interrupted their affection, and the two separated, both becoming significantly aware of the other seven people in the coffee shop. Mabel shuffled her shoes awkwardly, her eyes trying to look every but at her brother and his girlfriend, a fight she was struggling to win. Grenda's arms were crossed over her chest, an unfazed but annoyed expression crossing her rough features. Candy's mouth was still open from shock, but the flash from her phone's camera was enough to tell that her brain was functioning just as fast as usual. Pacifica turned to look at her possy, her arms still holding Dipper. Audra and Tiffany looked thunderstruck, and Hank was nowhere to be found. The two girl's eyes darted to their superior's, unsure what to make of this breech in social norm. Pacifica rested her head on Dipper's shoulder and stared daggers at her two lackeys, daring them to think any less of her.

"Alright, enough." Tambrey had emerged from behind the counter, her face devoid of any joy (as per usual). "I've already called security and they'll be here momentarily. I don't know what's _taking them_ ," she grumbled, guessing that they had stopped at the meat stand, "But they're coming to collect the trouble maker." She pointed at the still glassy-eyed Dylan as she said this, her expression turning to annoyance. "I'd rather _not_ get you two in trouble, and you fixed the wall, so…just leave."

Dipper still seemed a bit groggy from the whole incident, so Pacifica stepped in. "Thank you, Tambrey. Here," she said, pulling a few hundred dollar bills from her purse, "Take this." Tambrey waved it off with a hand and walked back around the counter, pulling out the phone. "No thanks, he's fine and the wall is alright, buuuuuuut," Tambrey's eyes widened as she looked at her phone, and she pointed her phone's screen at the two, "It appears #Pacifica'sBF is trending…"

Pacifica grimaced as she saw the picture of Dipper and herself on the social media, the number of views and shares increasing before her eyes. "Well there goes secrecy…" she muttered, Dipper sighing in shame. "I'm sorry, Paz," he mumbled at the floor, "It's my fault-"

Pacifica whipped around to look at Dipper, a harsh look on her face. "Dipper Pines, _you_ are not at fault. Last time I checked, Dylan was the one being a dick to you." She locked eyes with him again, her expression softening. "I'm not mad at you."

Dipper smiled at her weakly, and he pulled her into another hug. "Thanks babe." He murmured in her ear, running his fingers down her back.

"Well!" said Mabel, clasping her hands together as to prevent any more PDA, "We better get out of here before the mall cops get us! Come, mystery twi- wait," Mabel pointed at each of them in turn, counting out their number. "There are five of us…Candy!" she did a one-eighty to face her spectacled friend, "What would you call a group of five people?"

"A quintet?"

"That works! Come Mystery Quintet!"

As they left, Pacifica opened her mouth to point out that she was the only one who played a string instrument, but Dipper spoke before her. "Uh, Mabel," he started, anxiously rubbing the back of his head, "Do you mind if I go back to the Shack? That whole thing just," he shook his head, "Didn't feel good."

Mabel pouted, "But we just got her, bro-bro! We can't go yet!"

Pacifica smiled at them. "Mabel, I'll take him back home. You keep shopping."

Mabel beamed at her. "Thanks Pacifica!" The three girls bounded off to who knows where, eager to complete their wardrobes.

Dipper laced his fingers through Pacifica's, a sly smile covering his face. "So you'll take me back to the Mystery Shack?"

"Yep."

"And stay with me to make sure I'm better?"

"Yep."

"And tolerate both Stan _and_ Ford being in the same building?"

"Well when you put it like _that,_ " Pacifica said, turning to her boyfriend, who's face was filling with dread. "I'm _kidding_ , Dip." She smiled at him, enjoying her slight teasing. "I just think we should spend our time _away_ from those two."

Dipper cocked an eyebrow. "You mean, like, per say, in the attic?" he said, his voice bathed in gentlemanly charm.

"M-hm."

"Well then, Miss Northwest, I would be honored to have you as a guest."

"Oh shut up!" Pacifica's arms coiled around Dipper faster than he though possible, and he felt her quickly peck his lips.

"Hey, there they are!"

The couple jerked around to look over their shoulders, and saw two green-clad Gravity Mall's security officers not far behind them, riding segways at a snail's pace.

"Run?"

"Run."

The two sprinted towards the exit of the mall, hands still tightly clasped together, laughing all the way to Pacifica's scooter.


End file.
